


Comfort in familiarity

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (at the end) - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Conversations, Developing Friendship, Fluff, It's not all that shippy, M/M, Talking about Reading, light banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: He rounds the bookcase that sticks out from the wall on his right and collides, unthinkingly, with a person. Rantaro doesn’t even have time to be alarmed; he barely thinks to tap the power button on his Monopad before crashing backwards into the dusty carpeted floor, automatically reaching up to try to soften the fall for whoever it is as they land on top of him.“Ah--” Shuichi scrambles backwards, the flush that spreads across his features peeking out from beneath his hat. “S-Sorry, Amami-kun, I didn’t see you there,” he apologises, sounding nervous and a bit frantic, and sits back on his ankles. His hat was knocked askew in the crash, such that Rantaro can actually see his other eye for once, more than just the long eyelashes that sneak out on occasion when he blinks. Shuichi has nice eyes, a pleasantly cool greenish grey that is always so thoughtful-- though right now they’re more anxious than thoughtful, and this is really not the best time to be gawking.---Rantaro and Shuichi have a conversation in the midst of the killing game.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43
Collections: Dangan Ronpa Fics





	Comfort in familiarity

Rantaro goes down to the library early, before the morning announcement even plays. It’s still a bit chilly as he treks through the courtyard, but the sun has risen, and the sky is a dusty blue. The overgrown grass and weeds that give the courtyard such a lush, mysterious ambiance are wet with dew right now, and a gentle gust of wind makes some of the water drip down from the leaves of a tree and into his hair. He gives the plant a chagrined smile, as if it’ll actually respond, and smoothes down the section that was moistened. As if that’ll do anything, but the water is refreshing on his scalp and after doing so he touches his wet fingers to his forehead, cherishing the cool temperature.

He hardly slept last night. (The door to the main building creaks slightly when he opens it, but it falls shut with an inaudible rush of wind. Rantaro shivers in the warmth before making his way to the staircase that overlooks the basement.) Being up and moving so early probably isn’t his best call after sleeping so restlessly. Sure, everyone here  _ seems  _ plenty nice, but any one of them could be capable of murder. And he wants to get them all out of here, because he’s equipped to do so-- or at least more so than the average student-- but that doesn’t mean he’ll be trusting any of them in a hurry.

That would be a death wish, in a death game. Kaede is an inspiration but more often than not Rantaro finds himself secretly, quietly agreeing with Kokichi. He wouldn’t have to sneak around in the morning if not for all these attempts at teamwork; he could just slip down to the library sometime during the day when there’s nobody else around. The student handbook Monokuma gave him, the one that everyone else has-- what a surprisingly  _ useful  _ resource. Or at least, it would be.

He can’t blame Kaede, though. She’s just trying her best with what she’s got. If Rantaro was to trust anyone here, it would be her for sure. It’s just that she’s got so many eyes on her at all times, it would be… complicated, maybe is the best way of putting it, to actually try confiding on her. And who knows? Rantaro likes to think he’s a pretty good judge of character, but Kaede could be lying. He’s met people who have been so convincingly decent and kindhearted, only to turn around and stab him in the back. Sometimes literally-- though thankfully the bulk of his stab wounds in the past have been in the front. Hard to self-medicate when he has to twist himself in a pretzel.

Hopefully, Rantaro won’t have to deal with any backstabbing here. If he can just end this stupid killing game, then it won’t matter, none of it will, and hey, maybe they’ll all make good on that promise they made, to stay friends when they get out of here. Or be friends, as the case may be. Rantaro’s not sure he really considers anyone here his friend.

Nobody else is awake-- Rantaro is confident in this fact-- but every step he takes down the stairs feels obnoxiously loud in the haunting quiet of the building. The lighting is so dim in the basement, a sharp contrast from the courtyard, and he’s already feeling a bit claustrophobic, frowning around himself at the low ceilings and the dusty walls. He likes the library well enough (or at least he would, if not for everything that it represents) but the basement itself is… suffocating. Then again, the implications of being trapped under a  _ literal  _ dome are pretty bad to begin with. This is just like piling on pillows and blankets around someone who’s dying of heat stroke.

Rantaro pulls out his Monopad, swiping past the note from “himself” and to the map, before he steps into the library. He’s careful to close the door behind himself, just for posterity, before turning around. The smell of old books is strong in here, sharp and immersive and nostalgic for reasons Rantaro can’t pinpoint. He’s always liked libraries. Usually long periods of silence can be oppressive but only because of the things that are left unsaid. Silence is to a library like… well, he can’t think of a very good analogy. Metaphor’s always been kind of a grey area for him. Regardless it fits right in and that kind of detracts from the uncomfortable aspect of silence as a concept.

As he moves around a tall stack of books, he glances down at his Monopad, double checking that this  _ is  _ the shelf he wants. It’s not that he’s planning on doing anything with it, he’d just like to check out the supposed secret door before going to it like he supposedly described in the note. He doesn’t have a surplus of other options, here, but he’d just… he’d like to know what he’s facing, that’s all. Waking up in an unfamiliar building with a pounding headache and no knowledge as to how he got here (a feeling he  _ hates)  _ or what he’s been doing or where he was before, it’s all been so disorienting and he hasn’t been certain of a damn thing this whole time other than  _ don’t trust anybody don’t trust anybody don’t trust anybody.  _ It would just be,  _ nice,  _ if he could get his footing, or at least trick himself into thinking he has.

He rounds the bookcase that sticks out from the wall on his right and collides, unthinkingly, with a person. Rantaro doesn’t even have time to be alarmed; he barely thinks to tap the power button on his Monopad before crashing backwards into the dusty carpeted floor, automatically reaching up to try to soften the fall for whoever it is as they land on top of him.

“Ah--” Shuichi scrambles backwards, the flush that spreads across his features peeking out from beneath his hat. “S-Sorry, Amami-kun, I didn’t see you there,” he apologises, sounding nervous and a bit frantic, and sits back on his ankles. His hat was knocked askew in the crash, such that Rantaro can actually see his other eye for once, more than just the long eyelashes that sneak out on occasion when he blinks. Shuichi has nice eyes, a pleasantly cool greenish grey that is always so thoughtful-- though right now they’re more anxious than thoughtful, and this is really not the best time to be gawking.

“That one’s on me, Saihara-kun,” Rantaro replies, and his smile is probably a little more awkward than easy (he blames it on the hour) but Shuichi’s brows unfurrow just the slightest bit. As discreetly as he can, Rantaro returns his Monopad to his pocket. He’s trying not to worry about it. The Monopad looks just like any one of their student handbooks at first glance, and hopefully that’s all Shuichi got of it. “I wasn’t even watching where I was walking,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I wasn’t either,” Shuichi frowns, fixing his hat. “Are you okay? You kind of took-- all of the weight of the fall--” and it’s sweet how he actually winces as he says it, as if Shuichi actually weighs something substantial enough for the fall to have hurt. Rantaro nods his head yes, that he’s okay, but when Shuichi gets to his feet and offers him a hand up, he takes it.

His grip is remarkably sturdy. Rantaro wouldn’t say that he’s stronger than expected, but he stays on his feet as he lugs Rantaro onto his. Rantaro makes sure to squeeze Shuichi’s hand before it’s pulled away, and half-smiles when he sees Shuichi’s face redden again. Probably, again, owed to the hour. Nothing embarrassing about a simple hand squeeze. “What brings you here so early?”

“Uhm, I,” Shuichi fidgets with his hat. He doesn’t meet Rantaro’s gaze, but that’s somewhat par for the course with him. “Well, it’s sort of…”

“I’ve seen you hanging around here a lot,” Rantaro hums. Shuichi looks embarrassed, and he feels guilty for colliding with him so hard, so he figures he’d better try and help him out a little bit. “Do you like to read, Saihara-kun? You seem like the type.”

“Ah, yeah,” Shuichi smiles now, and Rantaro finds himself smiling too, more genuinely now. It’s not that Shuichi’s smiles are  _ contagious,  _ not in the way that people generally use the word, it’s just… Rantaro feels compelled. He rests his elbow against one of the shelves by him as Shuichi continues. “I do like reading-- a lot, actually. I suppose-- if I were to put a real, tangible reason to it-- that would be why I’m here. The presence of so many books is sort of comforting.”

Often, when Rantaro starts new books, he gets bored of them before the good part comes, and puts them down to be forgotten. He’s really not an avid reader. But he understands what Shuichi is saying, about the comfort he finds in familiarity. Rantaro feels that more near the Shrine of Judgement, amidst the weeds and the noises coming from Miu’s lab. He desperately needs to leave this place and book a flight to the Philippines. He has nothing but bad memories there, and yet… “What’s your preferred genre?” he asks, shaking his head just the slightest bit to clear his thoughts.

Shuichi hesitates. “I feel like you’ll laugh at me.”   
  
“What?” Rantaro chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “Are you into vampire novels? I promise, whatever it is, I’ve heard worse. I mean,” he pauses. “If you’re a fan of, y’know,  _ erotica,  _ I definitely think you should keep that to yourself, but I also don’t think that it’s necessarily something to be ashamed o--”

“No!” Shuichi shakes his head furiously, the tips of his ears going red. “Absolutely not, no, nothing like  _ that,  _ it’s just cliche, I’m not-- Amami-kun!”

Rantaro laughs. “See, you have nothing to worry about!”

“You’re the worst,” Shuichi groans, tugging his hat down over his eyes. “I like mystery novels, alright? I thought you’d laugh because it’s cliche. I mean, an apprentice detective liking detective books-- it’s sort of like an ego trip, isn’t it?” Rantaro decides to let the  _ apprentice  _ remark slide, for now, though Shuichi could definitely use a boost in the self confidence department.

“Huh. I don’t think that’s weird at all,” he tilts his head to the side just a bit. He means it, too-- it’s kind of sweet, actually, that Shuichi would be fond of mystery novels. It shows an interest in his craft. That kind of devotion, Rantaro can remember having it once upon a time, deep within the depths of his mind, but when he tries to grasp it, it… slips away. He can’t  _ really  _ be the Ultimate Survivor, can he? He doesn’t even know what the words mean, much less what the Ultimate Initiative might’ve chosen him for. “You like it for the mental challenge, I assume?”

“Yes, that’s right!” Shuichi seems to perk up, having been slightly deflated before due to the teasing. “I read so slowly because I go back and read over details over and over again to try to figure things out before they happen. I like to solve the cases before the culprits are revealed, I feel like that’s the fun of mystery novels, to challenge your brain. Of course,” he frowns. “There are only informational texts and encyclopedias in here, so I haven’t been reading a lot. I’m sure it’s all very interesting, it’s just rather dry and I’m not… it’s the books themselves that are comforting, not the contents.”

“You find solace in the presence of the books, despite not wanting to engage with them,” Rantaro summarises, and Shuichi tugs his hat down, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile. “That’s profound, Saihara-kun. You’re really intelligent.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ that,  _ but I--” Shuichi pauses. “I appreciate the… compliment.”

Progress, for sure. Rantaro smiles. “Anyway, if you like the library here, I think you’d like my dad’s library. It’s probably around this size, but it actually has books worth reading, y’know?” he nudges Shuichi with his elbow. “He has a fairly sizable collection of mystery novels, too. I haven’t read any of them-- I don’t think I have the stamina to be much of a reader, to be honest, I keep wanting to get up and walk around-- but they’re probably good.”

“I bet,” Shuichi smiles, a softer quirk of either sides of his lips, and Rantaro marvels at the range of smiles Shuichi has at his disposal. They’re all… lovely, though, they light up his eyes in an almost breathtaking way. “You might want to try to change that, books are really… ah, it’s difficult to describe. They provide an escape, you know?”

“I think I get what you’re trying to say,” Rantaro responds. “Tell you what-- when we all get out of here and this killing game nonsense is forgotten,” he gives himself a split second to chicken out on saying this and then decides to just go for it. “You should come over and check out the library. Maybe you’ve already read all the books on his shelf, but who knows, you might find something new.”

Shuichi seems to consider his words for a moment. His smile changes, but not in a bad way. It’s wider now, brighter almost. Rantaro feels his chest blooming with warmth. “Okay, Amami-kun,” he replies softly. “I’d really like that.”

\---

(And two days later, with Monokuma’s music playing blaringly loud in his ears, Rantaro turns around and meets his own gaze in the reflection of Tsumugi’s glasses. She is so cold through his own eyes, a large grey ball identical to the one at his feet clutched in her hand. This is it for him. And yet all he can think is that just as he finally got some incentive to save them, he…)

He doesn’t get to finish his thought.

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be the first half of amasai week day six but i wasn't proud of the second half and my prompt felt weird so i'm just posting it as is. sucks to be rantaro lol
> 
> i might rewrite the second half and post it as a standalone too. i just wanted to post smth for you guys since i've had kind of a rough night writing-wise and you've all been starving for so long
> 
> (that being said, if you're REALLY that hungry you can go read the twenty three THOUSAND word chapter i just posted for search. :333 hmm)
> 
> i miss these boys bro


End file.
